Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.
Provoked Too– Chapter 1 – Provo-ked Again
The bar is dark, the floor gritty and the furniture sports a layer of cigarette tar that the cleaning crew barely dented despite the fact that The Dee Johnson Indoor Clean Air act passed in 2007. For some reason that bit of Marshall trivia had stuck with Mary. And in this place I'm going to be sticking to the floor.
Mary stops beside the entrance, casing the joint. A woman can't be too careful in a dump like this, even one with a gun under her black leather jacket. The room is thinly populated by middle aged men serious about their mid-week drinking.
Where the hell is Davey? Mary saw her witness enter the bar, but he's nowhere in sight. She watches a dejected man shuffle up to the bar. He's typical of this bar's customers. There's Davey - coming from the bathroom. Mary's eyes narrow. Why does he have bills in his hand? What was he doing in that men's room? Interesting. It seems Davey knows the stranger at the bar. Davey buys beers for both of them. Davey isn't a treater. What's going on? Illegal betting? Drug transaction? With this nitwit anything's possible.
The door opens and a tall man with a military style haircut joins the two at the bar. Mary's brow wrinkles. She needs to hear what the men are saying. She sidles up to the bar getting the bartender's attention. She points to a bottle of beer and 'accidently' jostles her witness' hand. He turns and jerks when he sees her. "Hey Mary. Fancy meeting you here."
The tall man at the other end of the group smiles. He catches her eye and nods. Mary ignores him and focuses on the man with the money, her witness.
"Well hello there high roller. Where'd you get the cash? You are still sticking with the program?" Her rapid fire questions don't give him time to answer.
Davey stutters. "Sure, sure, of course I am. I. . . uh. . . the cash? I owe my buddy here. Davey stuffs the bills in the stranger's jacket pocket. The guy frowns but accepts the cash. "You know me, Mary. Straight arrow."
"Yeah," she drawls, "I know you." Mary stares at him. He scurries to get the bartender to take the few bills he has left and heads for the exit. "See you around, Davey." It's not a farewell, it's a promise.
"Uh, yeah. See ya." Davey replies as he looks over his shoulder and almost trips over his own feet as he hurries out the door.
The tall newcomer gets a beer, says a few words to the other man and hands him a business card. The man in the middle downs his beer and grunts. Mr. Military and Mary are left leaning at the bar. "Well this is a nice surprise. Guess I shouldn't ask what brings you to a place like this." He pitches his voice low so as not to be overheard.
"Lucas." She nods, acknowledging him. "You're right. You shouldn't ask but I can." He gestures toward an empty table in an alcove near the door. The chair scrapes as Lucas pulls it out for her. Mary swipes at the seat with a napkin.
Beer in hand Mary starts the conversation. "What brings you to Albuquerque?" Mary hadn't seen Lucas Provo since before Norah was born. "Wait, I've got a better question." He sips his beer, waiting. "What brings you to this part of town? These don't look like the kind of folks that you help."
Lucas sighs sadly. "I'm here because too many veterans end up here." He pulls a folded paper out of his jacket pocket. "I had 1,000 of these printed and posted." He hands it to her. "The guy you saw here tonight is my newest client."
The flyer announces legal aid for veterans. Which guy is his client? He can't mean Davey? Davey isn't a veteran. "There were two guys at the bar."
"You mean you missed the camo on the guy in-between your friend and myself? Were you so distracted by my handsome face that you didn't notice?" Lucas smiles ingratiatingly.
She snorts. "Yeah, right. I saw you pass him something, and it wasn't this." She flaps the flyer at him.
He fishes in his shirt pocket and hands Mary a business card. It's the right size and could be what he gave the stranger. "Lots of guys wear camo. It's the latest fashion statement," she says as she studies the card. "Attorney at Law? Since when? You left the military?" Mary looks up, studying his face.
Lucas takes a deep draught of his beer before answering. "About 6 months ago."
"But you loved what you were doing. Why leave?" If he can leave a job he claimed to love, a job that was a big part of who he is, maybe she could too. She still works hard, doing WITSEC to the best of her ability but the job doesn't have the appeal, the satisfaction it had when Marshall was her partner. Maybe it is time to move on. Bug isn't in school yet. The housing market is recovering. Time to go?
Lucas puts down his beer. "Remember when you asked me if helping others stirred up my own demons?" She remembers. "There was a case, a client." He grimaces and shakes his head. "It made me realize I didn't have to be in the military to help these men and women. And I was tired of jumping through bureaucratic hoops to do right by my clients. It was time."
"I hear ya." Mary responds with a tip of her beer.
"What about you. You still doing the same job?" Her silence is answer enough. "What about," he looks down and gestures toward her abdomen. The last time Lucas Provo, then JAG lawyer, had seen Mary she was in the home stretch of her pregnancy.
Mary smiles, a real smile. "Norah is eight months old. I'm still figuring out how to juggle her and the job." She grimaces as she realizes she gave up a personal detail that is none of his business.
"Ah. Pictures?" Mary looks at him quizzically. "Of Norah," he elucidates.
Mary never lets her witnesses know about any of her family. She's never done the proud mommy show and tell. "Uh no. No pictures. Hazards of the job and all." She shrugs pretending not to be affected by his request.
He cocks one eyebrow and grins. "Bet she's a real cutie like her mom."
Mary ducks her head, uncomfortable accepting compliments. "I'm still lugging some baby weight."
Lucas rubs his chin. "You lookin' for a workout partner? I haven't found a gym yet."
"Black Box," Mary says then sips her beer.
"Excuse me?"
Mary chuckles. "It's a gym. It has great equipment, well maintained. It doesn't have a track but there are good running paths in the parks."
"So do you train there?"
Mary drops her head and sighs. "I need to. I've been twice since Norah was born."
"Hey," he looks into her eyes. "Don't beat yourself up. Giving birth makes huge demands on your body. If I joined Black Box would you show me the ropes?"
She raises one eyebrow. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"
Lucas chuckles. "I mean the gym and only the gym." He looks at her expectantly.
"Okay." Mary sighs. Maybe this is just the nudge she needs to get back to fighting trim. What the hell? Why not? "How about tomorrow? I've put this off long enough."
"What time?" He wonders but doesn't ask where Norah will be while they work out. No need to piss Mary off by prying into her private life.
"I'll meet you there at 9 AM." She groans. "That's too damn early but it gets crowded later."
"Here's my number. Text me the address and I will see you there."
Mary tilts her head and squints at him. "You sure you want to do this?"
"I'm sure." He nods. He's sure. Mary is one of the reasons he came to Albuquerque.
